


don't you worry 'bout a thing

by chalantness



Series: drabble collections [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2018-12-02 03:32:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 17,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11500896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chalantness/pseuds/chalantness
Summary: Collection of prompt fills from a fluff meme on tumblr.





	1. Bucky/Wanda - #16

**Author's Note:**

> From this [prompt list](http://chalantness.tumblr.com/post/162843609946/101-fluffy-prompts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **word count:** ~580  
>  **for:** strong-bottle-of-jyn  
>  **prompt:** 16\. “I could never leave you, I love you too much!”

“Last time you get to pick our movie night,” James mumbles against the rim of his beer bottle, and she giggles, wiggles herself closer to his side.

Okay, she’ll admit that her Netflix pick is more over-the-top than she anticipated from the description. Usually the movies she goes for are lighter, more comical. Or, if things had been particularly unsettling for either one of them, she’ll put on a family (aka: children’s) movie, usually of the animated variety. And to James’s credit, he rarely complains. Whether it’s because he genuinely doesn’t mind whatever she picks, or because he bites his tongue, she can’t quite tell. He seems content to spend time with her no matter what they’re doing. That’s how movie nights had settled into their routine in the first place.

She’s really tempted to tell James to put on something else to watch, though, because even _she_ can’t handle this movie for much longer. She’d gone for a dramatic romance rather than the romantic comedies she usually picks, but this one is simply _ridiculous_. Maybe it’s because half of the plot’s conflicts could’ve been avoided altogether if the main couple would just _talk_ to each other about things. It makes her want to cringe.

But, as she’s about to reach for the remote, the female lead, yells at her boyfriend (ex-boyfriend? maybe they’d gotten back together again) through a sob and he yells her name before quite literally stomps out of her apartment.

James scoffs, and Wanda giggles again, levitating the remote off of the coffee table and into her hand to hit pause. “Thank _god_. That was ridiculous.”

“Which part?”

He smirks, empties his beer before setting the bottle aside. “Well, _all_ of it, but particularly that last part. I mean, I could never leave _you,_ I love you too much! So if that guy really loved that girl as much as he’s been professing the whole damn movie, then why leave when she’s trying to work things out? _Idiot_.”

Which she agrees with, she does. Except, she sort of can’t _breathe_ for a second, and James must be able to notice, because he furrows his eyebrows at her and asks, “You okay, doll? You got really tense all of a sudden.” He slides his metal hand down her forearm and massages his thumb in circles over her wrist.

“You said you love me.”

He tilts his head at her, seeming sincerely confused. But then he blinks, and then blinks again, and murmurs, “ _fuck_ ,” almost under his breath. For that one unbearably _long_ second, she feels her heart drop in her chest. But then he rubs his hand down his face, letting out a groan that’s sort of this half-laugh as he continues with, “ _fuck_ , that’s not how I wanted to tell you for the first time.”

Her heart skips. “You really love me?”

He pulls his hand from his face, curves his fingers around hers. “Yes, I do,” he says, grinning widely, totally amused, as if to add _of course, you silly girl._

A giggle bursts from her lips. Her eyelashes wet ever so slightly.

She grasps his face in her hands and kisses him, swiftly and sweetly, before letting out another giggle and kissing him a little slower and a little deeper. He groans against her mouth, hands sliding into her hair, massaging at her scalp.

“Doll, you’re kind of killing me here,” he murmurs.

She kisses him once, twice, three times. “I love you, too,” she tells him, and her heart flutters in her chest as he lets out a laugh.


	2. Steve/Natasha - #58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **word count:** ~760  
>  **for:** an anon   
> **prompt:** 58\. “We’ve become the clingy newlyweds you always complained about.”

“It’s just for a few nights! Fuck!”

Steve chuckles, and, perched on his lap, Natasha shoots Clint a glare. The guy rolls his eyes and lifts his hand, no doubt to flip her off (“It’s how they show their love to each other,” Laura had told Steve once through a laugh) before looking at Steve and seeming to think different, grabbing a handful of tortilla chips from their bowl and shoving them into his mouth. Laura shakes her head, brushes the crumbs from his lips.

Natasha _does_ flip him off, though, and Steve laughs as he slips his hand under the hem of her shirt and slides it up her back, trailing his fingertips over her spine. Natasha hadn’t been all that tense to begin with, but it’s as if she _melts_ at his touch, completely easing her body into his, and _fuck,_ he loves it a little too much. She’s sitting on his lap with her feet tucked under her, her arms wrapped around him, and he feels pretty content to not move at all. She tucks her face into his neck and nips at his jaw, then licks the spot and presses a kiss there.

“Really? You two can’t stop devouring each other for _two seconds?_ ”

“Last I checked, craving your spouse is supposed to be good thing for your marriage,” Natasha tells Clint, not even pausing in her attempt to nip along Steve’s jaw and down his throat. Steve knows she’s doing this because she’s wanted to ever since the kids had gone to bed and she could touch him without Lila or Cooper catching. He also knows she’s doing this to piss off Clint.

And most of all, he knows she’s doing this to drive him _crazy_. There’s nothing she loves more than pulling on the thread of his control.

If it happens to make their friends incredibly uncomfortable in the process? Well, that’s just a happy bonus.

He groans lowly, tucks his hands into her hair and tugs gently but firmly before she can lick at the teeth marks she’d left at the spot above his pulse. If she’d made it any lower, he’d have to drag her off to the guest bedroom and lock them inside, and then Clint and Laura would probably never invite them back.

“I don’t want to go to Vegas for some bachelorette,” she says, her gazed locked with Steve’s, though technically she’s telling this to Clint.

“It’s for Darcy, baby,” he reminds, massaging his fingers over her scalp. She hums, eyes fluttering closed as she leans back into his palm. “Besides, Pietro’s having his bachelor there that same weekend. It’s not as if we won’t see each other.”

“Actually, Cap,” Clint chimes in. He sounds way too amused. “Darcy has a strict Girls Only policy for that weekend. As in, no seeing or talking or texting Nat.”

Steve frowns. Natasha actually laughs. “See my protest?” she asks him, and he hums in agreement. “That’s just too long.”

“We’ve become the clingy newlyweds you always complained about, you know.”

“Fuck yeah, you have,” Clint mutters loud enough for them to hear.

Steve ignores him, cradling the back of Natasha’s head as he pulls her in for a kiss. It’s deeper and dirtier than is appropriate with Clint and Laura sitting just feet away from them, but he can’t be bothered by it. Just the thought of being unable to hear Natasha’s voice, or see her bright and beautiful smile, or touch her silky skin, for three days is enough to piss him off a little, and he knows it’s stupid to even think that, but he can’t quite help it. He’d fought to control his feelings for Natasha for too damn long, and now that he doesn’t have to – now that he can let himself _feel_ just how much he wants her, needs her – it’s almost ridiculous how much he’s constantly craving her. Even right now, he feels like he could just kiss her for hours, but he also feels like that won’t be enough.

He nips at her lower lip, drawing a whimper, and he’s so caught up in her that it actually startles him (startles _both_ of them) when Clint snaps, “Oh for the love of – get into the guest bedroom already and lock the damn door behind you!”

Natasha smirks and slides off of Steve’s lap, pulling them both to their feet in one swift motion. She kisses him again, hard and deep and _dirty_ , slipping her tongue against his, until Clint snaps her name and she laughs and tugs Steve down the hallway with her.

Fuck. He’s never going to get enough of her.


	3. Steve/Natasha - #75

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **word count:** ~500  
>  **for:** aquajules  
>  **prompt:** 75\. “Can you help me up, your child is pretty heavy.”

Honestly? She kind of loves being pregnant.

Maybe it’s because she never _thought_ it was a possibility before, that the chance had been taken from her before she could decide whether or not she wanted it. Maybe it’s because it hasn’t totally hit her yet, and, despite the fact that everyone (mostly Clint and Tony) is holding their breaths to see her in a mood swing, she’s been pretty even keel through the whole thing. She actually feels _more_ relaxed, and somehow more energetic at the same time. Probably because Steve is just so damn _happy_ about the whole thing and so easy to share in his enthusiasm when the man is practically buzzing all the time.

So much so that it’s almost easy to forget the weight gain. _Almost_.

“I can feel you staring at me, Rogers.”

She hears him chuckle, and, sure enough, she looks up to find him leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a smile on his lips. “Maybe I just love looking at my wife,” he says, and though his tone is teasing, she knows that he’s being entirely sincere. And really, you’d think that being married and carrying his child in her would mean that this man wouldn’t be able to make her blush anymore, make her heart skip and stutter.

“ _Maybe_?” she repeats.

His smile widens as he pushes off of the wall. “Definitely,” he amends, crossing the room to stand in front of her. He leans in, brushes a kiss to her forehead.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi,” he echoes, then leans down and presses a kiss to her round belly through the material of her pajamas. “Hi, little one. Giving your mom a hard time?”

“Just giving me a bad back,” she teases, reaching up to thread her fingers through his hair. Steve hums at her touch and glances up at her.

“I made hot chocolate and got the pitfire going on the patio.” He gives her a boyish, dimpled grin, and because she knows her husband, she knows what exactly he’s about to tell her. “Let’s grab a blanket and cuddle outside.”

She laughs. _God_ , he’s such a sap.

“Then, can you help me up?” She grins. “Your child is pretty heavy.”

He chuckles as he takes her hands in his, gives her fingers a squeeze and gently helps her to her feet. He makes it seem easy enough, and there are times when she almost feels pissed off by this. Like he doesn’t even realize how much weight she’s taken on. Except it’s stupid and she knows it, knows how ridiculous it is for her to think that Steve wouldn’t notice her discomfort. He may not be able to relate to it, but he’s _always_ been attuned to her. Of course he knows that she struggling. But he also knows that if he treats her like she needs his help, it’ll only piss her off even more.

“Hey.”

“Hmm?” He looks at her, his eyes sparkling.

“I kind of love you, you know,” she tells him, and Steve _laughs_ , ducks his head to slant his lips over hers.


	4. Bucky/Wanda - #57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **word count:** ~1,000  
>  **for:** purple-aeon  
>  **prompt:** 57\. “This is probably a bad time, but marry me?”

It’s a little after two in the morning when he makes it back to the hotel room, and no, he wasn’t convinced when Steve told him to go on ahead of him because he’d needed some fresh air. Yeah, the casinos basically smelt like sweat and smoke and alcohol, but Bucky’s not an idiot. The girls are somewhere else along The Strip celebrating with Darcy the way the guys had celebrated with Pietro, and the fact that Darcy had basically forbidden the girls from seeing the boys for the weekend wasn’t going to stop Steve and Natasha. It’s kind of stupid that those two can hardly keep their hands off of each other these days ever since their own wedding, but he can’t even be annoyed by it. Not when his best friend is so damn _happy_.

He doesn’t bother turning on the lights when he lets himself in, just squints through the darkness as he walks through the sitting room and into the bedroom. And then pauses in the doorway, blinking at the lump under the blankets on his bed, his heart thumping in his chest, as if realizing what’s happening – _who_ is under there – before his brain could catch up.

 _Wanda_.

He feels himself smile. He should’ve probably paid more attention to the fact that the room smelt faintly like flowers, and something else sweet that he could never quite put his finger on, much to Wanda’s delight. He’d guess what the combination of perfumes was and she’s just giggle, never really letting him know if she was close or not. He doesn’t mind, though. She knows he loves guessing this little secret as much as she loves keeping it from him.

Apparently not the _only_ secret she happens to be keeping.

He walks over to the bed to find her laying on her side, curled into herself with the blanket tucked up around her shoulders. Her hair is fanned out over the pillows, and he can’t quite resist himself when he gently takes a chunk of it and twirls it around his fingers, letting himself relish in its silky touch. Then he gently tucks his fingers through the length of it. He’s an ass for waking her and he knows it, but also, she’s here sleeping in his bed in the hotel room he’s sharing with Steve when she’s supposed to be somewhere else with the girls. As much as he’d love to just watch her sleep, he’d much rather have her _awake_ right now.

She stirs, letting out this little mewl, and blinks when he sits himself on the edge of the bed. Her head rolls over the pillow, eyelashes fluttering, and then she’s meeting his gaze. Her eyes are still bright in the dark room and despite the fog of sleep still lingering in them as she smiles at him, breathes out, “ _James_.”

“Hi.” He leans over, kisses her soft and slow and sweet. “How was your night?”

Her smile widens, giving him a flash of her teeth. “ _Fun_ ,” she says vaguely.

He arches an eyebrow. “Too much fun?”

She shrugs her shoulders, teasing. He groans lowly and moves over her to lay on his side, circling her in his arms and pulling her onto his chest. He probably ought to shower – he _knows_ he started sweating through his dress shirt by the time they got to the second casino – but he just wants to lay with her right now and she seems to want the same. She burrows herself into his chest, curls herself around him and hums in that breathy sort of way that tells him that she could probably fall back asleep in two seconds if she wanted to.

And, _fuck_. He gives Steve and Natasha shit for never wanting to be apart, but honestly? He’s not much better. If walking into this room to find her already curled up and sound asleep in his bed, waiting for her, _knowing_ that he’d be there with her at the end of his night… If that feeling is even a little bit of what Steve and Natasha must feel whenever they’re together, Bucky might have to side with them on this one. He may never want to leave Wanda’s side again.

He _doesn’t_. He wants to fall asleep like this every night, with her in his arms, with her soft, floral scent settling in his senses. He glances through the dark at the dresser that he’d unpacked his clothes into, as if he’d be able to see right through the thing. As if he’d be able to see the small, velvet box he’d taken with him in his carry-on. It should seem stupid for such a tiny thing to feel so heavy wherever he took it, to seem so _prominent_ , and he’s never been more aware of the diamond tucked into the case than in this moment, in this _second_.

“Marry me.”

Fuck. _Fuck_. He hadn’t meant to blurt that out.

“…What?” she asks, lifting her head. Her eyebrows are furrowed adorably as if in confusion, like she hasn’t quite heard him correctly. But he knows she has. Her heart is beating against his, her breaths quicker, sharper, her eyes wider and sparkling brighter than he thinks he’s ever seen. “What as that, James?”

He almost winces. “This is probably a bad time,” he starts, gently rolling her onto her back, “but, marry me?”

“James,” she breathes, reaching for his hand, and he lets her squeeze his fingers before slipping from her grasp, standing and walking over to the drawer. He slips the velvet box open, holds the ring between his fingers. “James?”

He smiles, glances over his shoulder. She’s sitting up now, her hair pressed in odd places, her slip rumpled and her bra strap falling off of one shoulder.

She’s _perfect_.

He walks back to her, and her gaze falls on the glittering diamond in his hand. She almost doesn’t react to it, other than her eyebrows rising ever so slightly and her lips parting a fraction of an inch so she can wet her bottom lip with her tongue. Then she meets his gaze again, her eyes bright, so much brighter than the ring in his hand, and he can’t bring himself to even try to look away as he sits on the edge of the bed again.

“Wanda,” he starts again, and he swears they’re both holding their breaths.


	5. Steve/Natasha - #48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **word count:** ~520  
>  **for:** scaramou   
> **prompt:** 48\. “We accidentally got married in Vegas oops”

“What do you mean, _it just happened?_ ”

Natasha grins from behind the rim of her glass, glancing at Steve as he reaches for her hand across the table, curling his fingers around hers. An act that would’ve caused the whole table to groan, except everyone seems to be in a particularly good mood this morning. Whether it’s because they’re wrapping up a bachelor and bachelorette weekend with a brunch only Tony Stark would think perfectly acceptable to pay for, or because they’re too amused with the situation altogether to mind all of the public displays of affection, Natasha isn’t sure. But she finds that she doesn’t really care right now.

“Babe,” Pietro says with a laugh, bending his neck to press a kiss to her shoulder. “It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry, they got married in _Vegas_ at our _bachelorette weekend_ , and you say it’s _fine?_ ” Darcy asks. She’s smiling too widely to be genuinely upset, though Natasha _does_ feel a little bad about breaking Darcy’s rule about it being a girls only trip. Their weekend hadn’t been particularly crazy as far as bachelorettes are supposed to go: no strippers, no private dancers, and only a little bit of club-hopping. Really, they just shopped all day and danced all night, and drank way too much complimentary alcohol that the bartenders pushed their way whenever Darcy told them that she’d just gotten engaged.

“Well, not to be redundant, but they were _already_ married,” Bucky points out.

At this, Steve lifts Natasha’s hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles, and then the spot on her ring finger just above her wedding band, nudging it with the pad of his thumb like he likes to do sometimes. The small chapel had been nothing like the stretch of beach that they’d rented out for their original ceremony, and she hadn’t even been wearing white, or anything even a little appropriate for a wedding, even of the Vegas kind. They’d used their own wedding bands and recited the same vows, and she’s pretty sure the “priest” that married them must’ve been able to tell all of this.

She wasn’t even all that drunk, and she knows for sure that Steve wasn’t. So _why_ they had even done it, she wasn’t sure.

Well, that’s a lie. She just really likes how it feels when Steve slips her ring onto her finger, and she knows that Steve just likes the excuse to touch her as much as he wants, to kiss her breathless when someone, _anyone_ , is watching. Like he wants to show off how much he loves her, how much he wants her and _needs_ her.

“Beautiful day for a wedding,” Sam says, almost out of the blue as he squints up at the bright, clear blue sky just beyond the terrace canopy.

“Don’t even think about it,” Darcy says, narrowing her eyes at Steve and Natasha.

Steve chuckles, kisses the back of Natasha’s hand again and winks at her when she meets his gaze. He’s playing with her ring again, and honestly? She has half a mind to drag him back to a chapel right now if he keeps staring at her like that. He probably wouldn’t mind at all.


	6. Steve/Natasha - #21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **word count:** ~660  
>  **for:** an anon  
>  **prompt:** 21\. “She’s quite stunning, isn’t she?”

He falls in love with her before he can really think about it. He _knows_ he does, because when it finally settles in, it doesn’t feel as if the world had been yanked out from under him yet again. It doesn’t take his breath away like a punch to his gut, but slowly, and then all at once, like some missing piece is finally clicking into place and he’s overwhelmed by how _complete_ he feels all of a sudden.

He blinks, and then blinks again, watching Natasha on the patio with Pepper. The sunlight is bright and almost blinding, catching like fire in the strands of her hair that she’d pulled up into an elegant mess of a bun when they first came to the penthouse. They came to help Tony paint the nursery, so Natasha is wearing a tank top under a fading button-down of his that he should’ve tossed out by now but hasn’t because she seems to love it so much. It’s huge on her and falling off of one shoulder, revealing the bruise he’d sucked into her skin just the other night. There’s another bruise peeking out from the hem of her denim shorts, and streaks of pale pink paint running down her legs, and if he squints, he’ll see the fading, jagged scar along her calf from her last mission.

She’s _beautiful_ , and he feels a little bit like he can’t breathe.

“Might want to close your mouth there, Cap,” Tony says, snapping Steve from his daze. The guy’s tone is teasing, but there’s something soft and sincere in his eyes when Steve turns to look at him. He hands Steve a beer and nods at Natasha. “She’s quite stunning, isn’t she?” he asks, voice a little softer.

Steve swallows, hard. He doesn’t think a word exists that could quite describe Natasha, but “stunning” comes close.

“Yeah, she is.” _And I’m in love with her_ , he doesn’t say, but Tony hums as if he knows this. Or maybe he always has. Maybe he knew it before Steve did.

Natasha glances up, catching Steve’s gaze, and he can’t quite help the way he starts walking toward her before really realizing it. He swallows again, the beer can denting under his grip until he loosens his fingers and sets it aside on the table. Amusement touches her smile when she sees this. _God_ , she’s beautiful. She’s so beautiful and he doesn’t really know what to do with himself, especially now, with her eyes sparkling at him and loose strands of hair falling into her face when a warm breeze passes over the patio. She leans off of the railing as he nears, lets out a soft, “ _oh_ ,” when he gathers her in his arms and tucks her in close, nuzzling his face into the curve of her neck. She breathes out a laugh and threads a hand through the short hair at the back of his head, massaging over his scalp.

“Hey soldier,” she greets, barely above a whisper. Her breath is warm as it ghosts over the shell of his ear and he almost, _almost_ shivers.

“Hey yourself,” he mumbles into her skin, lifting his head to kiss her. Once, twice, three times, nipping at her lower lip and then pressing his tongue against hers. He vaguely hears Tony chuckling, Pepper saying something through a laugh. But then Natasha lets out this soft, barely there mewl and it’s as if his every sense is honed in on her, wrapped up in her sweet scent, melting at the touch of her soft skin.

She reaches up to touch his neck, just over his pulse, and he jumps.

“Your pulse is racing.” She leans away, just enough to meet his gaze. She’s still smiling, still has that touch of amusement in her eyes, and _god,_ he loves it. He loves _her_. “Is everything alright?” she asks. There’s something _knowing_ in her tone, as if she’s asking another question entirely, and he smiles and kisses her again.

“Everything is perfect.”


	7. Bucky/Wanda - #42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **word count:** ~700  
>  **for:** steph21108  
>  **prompt:** 42\. “My [brother is] coming over in 10 minutes so please put some clothes on.”

It’s rather silly to her that she still feels her heart skip a beat whenever she sees James like this – skin bared, hair disheveled, his expression completely relaxed, _carefree_. She has no idea how she convinced herself to leave their (well, technically _her_ ) bed when James was still in there, completely bared and pretty damn insistent in getting her to stay. He’d woken her up with his face between her legs, and she’d almost been too dazed afterward to register the sound of her phone going off, barely catching her breath in time to make sense of the text from Pietro saying that he’d be over in twenty. James had wrapped his arms around her in an attempt to get her to stay, but she’d slipped from his hold, grabbed her clothes, and headed straight for the shower, knowing she’d be a goner if she looked back.

“James,” she almost whines. He hadn’t put on any clothes, hadn’t so much as gotten out of bed. He’s sitting up against the pillows and swiping along the screen of his tablet, the blankets pooled low around his hips. She catches sight of a purple coloring along his shoulder from where she’d bitten him less than fifteen minutes ago, when he’d pulled her over him and rocked her into his lap.

She _blushes_ , her sundress suddenly feeling a little too warm and a little too tight.

James looks up at her, and then follows his gaze down to his shoulder, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Kind of sucks that it’ll probably heal before lunch,” he tells her, smoothing his thumb over the bruise. “I quite like it when you leave marks.”

“James,” she says, heart fluttering. She likes it, too – probably more than she should.

He sets his tablet down, holds a hand out for her. “Come here, doll.”

“No, I can’t – think straight when you’re like this,” she says through a laugh as she shakes her head, willing herself to look away and walk over to her vanity. She busies herself with looking through her jewelry box for the pearl necklace and matching earrings that Pietro and Darcy had gifted to her for her birthday.

She hears the bed creak ever so slightly as he stands, but still, she jumps at his touch when he nudges her hand away and pulls open a drawer where, sure enough, the pearls are inside. She looks in the reflection, her gaze sliding down the miles and miles of James’s muscles and skin, and her heart actually thumps in her chest when her eyes fall between his legs. She’s seen him naked before ( _obviously_ ) so she shouldn’t feel so frazzled right now, but, well.

He’ll probably always have this effect on her.

He clasps the necklace into place, then kisses her skin just below the clasp, and she actually sucks in a soft breath, glancing up to find him grinning at her in the reflection. He’s totally amused right now, and it makes her laugh.

“See something you like?”

“Yes,” she answers, because she couldn’t bluff even if she tried. Not about him. “But my brother is coming over in ten minutes, so please put some clothes on.”

“Why?”

“ _James_.” She turns to face him, very deliberately looking at his face. His lips twitch at the corners. “My brother is already indignant with you,” she reminds. It’s not really true, because she knows Pietro only really pretends to not like James for maybe five minutes, ten at most, and then the two of them will spend the whole time talking like old friends. Why her brother even puts on the act to begin with, Wanda isn’t sure, but it’s rather endearing, actually. “Just because he knows that we’re sleeping together doesn’t mean he needs evidence.”

James laughs. “Alright, doll,” he says, kissing her cheek, then the bridge of her nose, and then finally her lips, before heading for the bathroom.

And, really, she isn’t at all surprised when James steps out of their room wearing khaki shorts and muscle shirt. It’s warm out, so she understands why he might not want to wear sleeves, except, as he walks passed her to answer the door when the doorbell chimes, she catches sight of the bright purple bruise with teeth marks – _her_ teeth marks – on his shoulder, completely bared.

And Pietro definitely sees it.

“ _What_ is _that?_ ”


	8. Steve/Natasha - #83

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **word count:** ~920  
>  **for:** steph21108   
> **prompt:** 83\. “I can’t be pregnant… or….OH MY GOD!”

“I’m _fine_ ,” she says, for what feels like the dozenth time since Pepper had come over. If Natasha had felt even a little sick this morning, she would’ve canceled plans to have Tony and Pepper bring Baby Nikki over for the day. They weren’t doing anything special – just lounging around, and apparently now everyone is coming over for dinner later because Steve wants to grill, which is why he had dragged Tony to the store about twenty minutes ago. She’s thrown up twice since then, but she feels _fine_ now. Not even a little bit queasy, and honestly? That’s what’s so unsettling about this. Usually she can feel when she’s sick, or when she’s about to be, but this one had taken her by surprise.

Baby Nikki is babbling happily from her high chair, spooning yogurt into her mouth (well, most of it’s getting in her mouth). It makes Natasha smile, her chest squeezing ever so slightly. Fuck, she’s such a cute kid.

“What did you eat last night?” Pepper presses the back of her hand to Natasha’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm at all.” She grabs a kitchen towel and runs it under the water, dabbing at Natasha’s cheeks. “You look perfect, too.”

“I _am_ ,” she insists, moving to push Pepper’s hand away, because she hears the front door unlocking and Steve and Tony’s voices filtering in from the entryway. She doesn’t want to worry Steve, because _god_ , does the man know how to fuss over her. She thinks he actually kind of loves it. But Pepper is pressing the back of her hand to her forehead again as Steve and Tony walk in, and Steve’s smile falters ever so slightly when he sees them.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, setting the grocery bags he’s carrying onto the table.

“Yes,” Natasha says and Pepper says, “Nat threw up, twice.”

Natasha narrows her eyes.

“What?” Steve frowns at her. “Are you sick?”

“ _No_ ,” Natasha answers, holding his gaze. He nods, believing her, but his forehead is still creased a little, the way it gets when he’s in concentration. His gaze is flickering over her face, and then quickly down the front of her, as if waiting for an explanation or some kind of sign to just appear.

“This is the third time this week,” he points out, which, yeah, she knows. It’s why she’s probably more annoyed than she should be right now.

Pepper pulls back at this, as if startled. “Wait, what?”

“I’m fine,” Natasha promises.

But Pepper is still _staring_ at her, expression almost calculating. Natasha knows there’s really no reasoning with the woman when she gets like this, so she lets Pepper be for a moment longer until she asks, slowly, as if she’s not sure quite how to go about her question: “When’s the last time you had your period?”

Natasha blinks, her heart skipping. “… _No_.”

“Have you missed it?” Pepper asks, her tone soft and patient, _motherly_ , and Natasha’s gaze snaps onto Steve. His expression is – strangely blank, and she feels as if her expression is flooding with emotion, and usually it’s the other way around. Steve takes her hand in his, runs his thumb over her knuckles before giving her fingers a gentle squeeze.

“But she can’t…” Steve trails off, glancing between her and Pepper and then back to her. His voice sounds calm, controlled, the way it gets when he’s trying to keep himself in check. Except he doesn’t sound like he’s upset or nervous. He sounds very hard like he’s trying not to be excited, and it cuts through the nerves in her stomach, tugging at her own excitement at the possibility that– that she—

“Yeah, she _can’t_ ,” Tony says, and the casualness of his tone feels completely off in this moment, but also strangely _perfect_ , “just like there _can’t_ be a super soldier serum that turns scrawny asthma kids into cartoon superheroes.”

“Tony,” Pepper hisses.

“Right, right,” he says, setting his groceries aside, too. “I’ll call Helen and Bruce, tell them to meet us at the Facility hospital.”

“I can’t be pregnant, or–” She pauses, glancing up at Steve. “Oh my god.”

He slides his hands up her arms, giving her a gentle squeeze. She’s vaguely aware of Pepper walking away, saying something to Nikki about getting cleaned up because they have to take a drive, but right now, all she’s really focused on is the way Steve’s eyes are wide and a little wild, _sparkling_ as he stares down at her. He’s obviously elated at this possibility and trying not to be because they never talked about kids. Of course they never have, because they never thought it would be a possibility. _She_ never thought it would be, just like she’s sure the scientists that performed her graduation ceremony would’ve never thought there would be a serum that could give her the one thing they’d been so careful to take away from her.

“Natasha?” He reaches up, cups her face in his hand, and she leans into his palm. “Is this…” He licks his lips, considering his words. “Are you–”

She leans up, kisses him quickly. She knows he can feel her shaking. But then he nips at her lower lip, kissing her again, a little slower, a little deeper. He slips an arm around her, pulling her close, still cupping her cheek as she reaches between them and clutches at the material of his shirt, her body easing into his.

He pulls away, just enough to break their kiss. “Okay,” he says, breathless.

She breathes out a laugh, tucking her face into his neck. She’s feeling more than _okay_ right now, but that’s definitely a good place to start.


	9. Bucky/Maria - #9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **word count:** ~1,000  
>  **for:** an anon  
>  **prompt:** 9\. “The stars look especially lovely tonight.”

He wonders, briefly, if he would’ve been as taken with her in his past life as he is in this new present.

From what he remembers when he can, and from what Steve fills in for him when he can’t, there were quite a few girls that caught his attention. They had different curves, different-colored eyes and different-colored hair, but the same bubbly personalities and exuberant laughs. They turned heads because of the sheer amount of energy that radiated off of them, the way that all bright things do, he thinks – beautiful, if maybe a little blinding at times.

But Maria? She’s something else entirely.

She’s gorgeous in the way that sneaks up on you, where you don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until she glances at you and it feels like a punch to your gut. Some people would say she’s too composed, too calculating, but he knows better. She’s definitely quieter than the girls he’s dated in the past, but she’s more magnetic than all of them together. And just because she’s _quieter_ doesn’t mean she’s _quiet_. At least, not with him. She prattles on about her day in that low, sultry tone of hers, eyes glinting and lips tipped in a smirk. Her laugh is soft and breathy, but the sound of it is always quick to drown out the rest of the world, drown out his busy thoughts. Even the way she unravels is quiet but consuming: a low rasp of his name, over and over and right in his ear, her nails digging into his muscles and her entire body wrapped around him, so that all he can make sense of is her voice and her scent and her touch.

Yeah, he’s pretty sure he would’ve been just as taken with her back then as he is right now. But he probably wouldn’t have gone after her. He knew he would’ve been hooked, and he wouldn’t have let that risk his carefree existence.

(It makes him think, not for the first time, that maybe Steve is onto something when he says that they survived this long for a reason.)

(Maybe _she’s_ his reason.)

No doubt feeling the weight of his stare, she glances away from Pepper and Wanda’s conversation and turns her head, quickly catching his gaze. Her lips quirk at the corners and his smile widens in response. No, he’s never ashamed to be caught staring. Especially not when it makes her eyes sparkle like that.

He winks, tucks his hand into his pocket and doesn’t bother giving an excuse to Steve and Natasha about leaving. They’re not even paying him any attention.

He moves through the shadows toward the back of the penthouse, down the hallway that he knows leads to the second, secluded balcony. It’s a blistering November evening in New York, so he doubts any of the other party-goers would think about stepping outside. But, he’d rather not risk any interruption.

Her hand grasps his and spins him around, and she has herself tucked into his blazer before he can even get out a chuckle. He wraps his arms around her bared shoulders – _fuck_ , she looks like heaven and sin in a dress like this – and holds her gaze as he murmurs, “Beautiful.”

Her lips quirk. “Yes. The stars look especially lovely tonight.”

He smirks, backs her up until she’s pressed against the all, sucking in a sharp gasp at the sudden cold of it against her skin. She fists his dress shirt between her fingers and lets out a breathy laugh when he ducks his head and catches the pulse of her neck with his lips. “Bet you can name every constellation up there,” he says, because it’s true. He doesn’t know how the woman can retain so much information in that beautiful head of hers, how she can cling onto every little detail. Some might think of it as neurotic. He thinks it’s fucking _sexy_.

“You like that, don’t you?” She arches as she says this, brushing her hips against his, and he knows her question is rhetorical. She can feel for herself what she’s doing to him. “Why does my astronomical knowledge turn you on?”

“Darling, _everything_ about you turns me on,” he tells her, and it doesn’t convey nearly as much as he wants to. Doesn’t emphasize just how captivated he is by her. Doesn’t encompass how she’s become his favorite thing about living in this new time, his favorite thing about _living_. “I like learning what you know. Like you’re letting me inside your head.” He doesn’t think he’s making sense, but then he watches as her eyelashes flutter, her gaze growing heavier, her breath coming out short and uneven.

He hooks his metal arm around her and lifts her higher up the wall, her legs hooking around his waist as a delighted breath leaves her lips.

“You’re something else entirely,” he murmurs against her cheek as she impatiently fumbles with his tie and the buttons of his shirt. “You’re always so cautious, and yet you want me to make love to you right here and right now where anyone can find us. In fact, I think you might even _want_ them to find us.”

She smirks and whispers, “shut up,” and he laughs because he knows that’s her way of saying that he’s gotten pretty damn close.

He tilts his head to catch her gaze. Her hands pause, palms pressed flat against his heart.

“I’m glad that I’m here.”

She blinks once, twice, three times, and it’s quiet, the way her entire face lights up. Quiet but consuming, snatching his breath away, making his blood thrum in his veins. Because she understands. Of course she does _._ He’s not just glad to be here, with her in his arms. He’s glad to be here, in this point in time, where he gets to exist at the same time she does. Years of torture and corruption and manipulation, and he’s _glad_ that he survived it. He’s glad it brought him to her.

“Me too,” she rasps, and when she kisses him, it feels like every piece has finally clicked into place.


	10. Bucky/Maria - #36, 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **word count:** ~800  
>  **for:** an anon   
> **prompt:** 36\. “A thunderstorm is rolling through town and you’re scared of lightening/thunder so I’ll protect you.” + 37. “There was a power outage and now we have to have dinner by candlelight.”

She flinches when another roll of thunder rattles the windows, and then again when a flash of lightning streaks through the sky. She knows it’s very likely her imagination that the lightning seems to have gotten closer, but she can’t quite shake the thought once it’s set in. It’s _ridiculous_ for her to be so nervous right now, as if she hasn’t lived through worse than a little wind and a little rain and a power outage. She knows just how much power she holds at her fingertips, and she knows, realistically, there’s no danger that this storm can cause that she wouldn’t be able to handle. It doesn’t make sense for her to be afraid right now.

But she _is_ , and she thinks that’s the most upsetting part about it.

“Doll,” James says, hooking his arm around her and tugging her closer to him on the couch. There’s a smile playing on his lips, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, but to his credit, he hasn’t laughed at her even a little, or voiced how she shouldn’t be afraid right now. She thinks she falls even more in love with him because of it. “You sure you don’t need another blanket?” he asks, rubbing his hand up and down her arm. She’s shaking a little, but they both know that it probably doesn’t have to do with the cold.

“I’m fine,” she says as she burrows herself against his chest. Another rumble of thunder vibrates through the walls and she grips onto him a little tighter.

“You need to eat,” he reminds, tucking a hand into her hair, gently massaging his fingertips over her scalp, just the way she loves. She lets out this little mewl and curls herself as close as physically possible, the tension ebbing from her body little by little with every stroke. “I slaved over this dinner for you, you know.”

This makes her giggle. He microwaved the leftover Chinese food in their fridge from two nights ago, when they’d both been too exhausted from their three-day reconnaissance in Tokyo to cook. She wanted to stop by the grocery store to grab a few things for dinner, but of course James said they ought to eat what was already in their fridge, _just in case_. Just as he’d moved the candles from the hallway closet onto the coffee table, along with the lighter from the kitchen, _just in case_. Maybe these are simple, practical things anyone would do when they know a thunderstorm is supposed to hit, but she still finds it incredibly sweet of him to be so prepared when she knows how uneasy storms make her.

“I’m not hungry,” she says, which is true. Her stomach is too tied in knots for her to possibly hold any food down.

He hums, reaches under the blanket to grasp her leg and draw it over him, pulling up and onto his lap so that she’s straddling him. He smiles at her, and in the glow of the flickering candles, he looks almost ethereal. The thought makes her smile. _Her guardian angel, always ready to protect her. How lucky_.

“What’s that smile for?” he asks, reaching up to brush his thumb over her lower lip.

“Just thinking how I’m lucky that I have you.” She dips her head forward and nuzzles her face into his neck, feeling the rumble of his low, breathy chuckle.

“Pretty sure it’s the other way around, doll.”

She shakes her head, still pressing her face into his neck, and his chest vibrates in a laugh. The sound of it makes her heart flutter, but the _feel_ of it – of _him_ – makes her skin tingle, makes her stomach flip in the best kind of way. There’s another clap of thunder outside, violent and loud, but she barely even notices it this time. She’s too distracted by James and his warmth and his scent and his hand still in her hair.

She presses a kiss to the pulse in his neck, loving the way it beats against her lips, relishing in the heat of it. There’s another roll of thunder, another howl of wind whipping rain against the windows, but all she can focus on is the taste of his skin. She kisses him slowly, teasing her tongue against his pulse. He feels sturdy beneath her, his strong arms wrapped around her, protecting her.

“ _Wanda_ ,” he says in a low groan, his breaths coming out uneven. “You…”

She giggles, presses another kiss to his pulse before drawing back. “I need a distraction, remember?” she asks, even though she can barely even hear the storm anymore. His eyes sparkle in amusement. “You’ll be that for me, yes?”

He laughs. “Doll, I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”

She grasps his face with her hands, leans her forehead against his. “My guardian angel,” she whispers, and he tips his head up and kisses her as if he’s making a promise.


	11. Steve/Natasha - #40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **word count:** ~1,000  
>  **for:** sassaspazz   
> **prompt:** 40\. “Our AC is out and it’s the middle of the summer.”

She’d expect something like this to happen at his place. His apartment is decent as far as studios in New York, but his building is old. So much so that his pipes freeze over every time the air is blistering enough, and the elevator goes out of service at least every other week, and _something_ leaks in his apartment whenever they happen to get something above a sprinkle of rain outside. It’s ridiculous that he lives there at all when she knows he can afford a nicer place. It’s even more ridiculous that he continues to pay rent when he’s half-moved into her apartment at his point. His clothes take up space in the dresser in her bedroom that they found at an antique store a few blocks over, and his body wash sits in the shower caddie next to hers, and his various trinkets sit on her once empty tables, her walls adorned with the photos he takes and the paintings he draws.

Anyway.

Her building isn’t brand new or anything, but it’s newer than his and has far less maintenance problems.

Except, it seems, for the AC breaking down on the hottest day of the week.

Even with all of the windows opened, there isn’t a breeze coming through to make the place any less stuffy. She’d sit out on the terrace, but she’s certain that sitting directly under the sunlight wouldn’t help with keeping her cool.

In the kitchen, she can hear Steve still talking on the phone with someone from maintenance. He’d called to ask about the status on the AC after going without for three hours now, but after being told that they were still working on it, their conversation had somehow diverged into friendly small talk. She pretends to be exasperated by Steve’s knack of making friends with just about everyone in her building, but honestly? It’s pretty damn endearing, and such a _Steve_ thing to do that she doesn’t even want to pretend to hate it.

 _Fuck_ , it’s hot. She’s fairly certain she’s sweat right through her camisole, and really, they’re on the fifth flour. She doubts anyone is going to just look into the apartment, and even if they did, she feels too smothered by the heat to care.

She stands up and tugs her camisole over her head, tosses it onto the living room floor next to the shorts she’d peeled herself out of an hour ago. Steve’s voice falters ever so slightly in the middle of his sentence, and she feels her lips already tugging at the corners as she glances over her shoulder at him. He’s still got the phone in one hand, but he’s dug out an ice-cream drumstick out of her freezer, too, holding it in his other hand.

His eyes slide slowly down the front of her, over the miles of skin she has bared, just standing here in her bra and panties. They don’t even match, and she’s certain she’s flushed from the heat and already covered in a layer of sweat. But the way Steve is staring at her right now makes her feel nothing short of _sexy_ , and her already warm skin feels fiery under the weight of his gaze. He’s already seen her naked before, already _memorized_ every inch of her body, but every time always feels just as thrilling as the first.

She walks around the couch and into the kitchen, smirking when she hears him stumble over something that’s supposed to be a goodbye, before hanging up.

“Nat,” he says in a gravelly laugh. “It’s the middle of the day.”

“So?” She reaches out to touch the hand that’s holding his ice-cream. His eyelashes flutter ever so slightly, and she ducks her head and licks up the cone, following the line of ice-cream that had started to melt down the side.

“Go right ahead,” he breathes.

She hums, seals her lips against the ice-cream and sucks some of it into her mouth. His eyes darken, smile widening ever so slightly, and her hand snaps out to grasp the cone from him before he can react, smashing it against his bared chest. He actually jolts at the sudden cold, staggering back against the edge of the counter, and she’s laughing as she dips her head and licks a chunk of ice-cream and waffle cone chunks right off of his skin. She hums, makes a show of licking her lips clean. He swallows, eyes gleaming in amusement.

“You know, we need to find other things to do with our time together other than sex.” He’s teasing, she knows, but his voice comes out a little too strained in his effort not to squirm at the sensation of the ice-cream melting down his abs.

“Well if you didn’t live in a different apartment then maybe we’d find a little more time to ourselves,” she retorts, eyebrow ticked up in a challenge, because it’s always a challenge between them. They’re always so in sync, clicking right into place with each other, and she loves it, of course. But she loves _this_ , too. The constant push and pull, the way they banter and bicker and push each other’s buttons just because they can.

(And she’s not an idiot. He basically just tricked her into asking him to move in.)

(She feels like she should be pissed, but she’s not. Not even a little.)

“If we live together, you have to get better at sharing,” he says, eyes glinting, and then he grasps her by her hips and hoists her onto the counter in one swift motion. “You can’t be the only one that gets dessert, you know,” he tells her as he steps between her legs. She feels her stomach flutter, and then he scoops some of the ice-cream in his hand and reaches up to smear it up her neck. It’s quickly melting, but it’s still cold enough to make her gasp.

Then Steve ducks his head and licks up the path that he made, and she gasps for a different reason entirely.

“Sex probably isn’t going to help us cool off,” she points out as he nips and sucks at her neck, letting her eyes flutter closed.

“Not even with a few more drumsticks?” he asks, and his hand already reaching for the freezer door, and a tingle of excitement slides down her spine.

“Worth a shot.”


	12. Bucky/Wanda - #12, 25, 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **word count:** ~800  
>  **for:** NevrmoravnO26 and baby-i-promise-we-are-fine   
> **prompt:** 12\. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” + 25. “I’d like it if you stayed.” + 28. “I have never felt this way about anyone.”

She doesn’t quite know what to consider them. They’re _friends_ , she’s certain. She trusts him and he trusts her, and she knows quite well that he enjoys her company. He gravitates to her, lingering as close as her brother will allow without literally moving him aside. Even then, James just chuckles and brushes Pietro off. He’ll keep his distance whenever her brother is hovering over her shoulder, but when they’re together – when they’re _alone_ – he can’t seem to keep his distance. He always itches to touch her, seems perfectly content to simply exist in her space, and she doesn’t mind.

She quite likes it, actually.

So, yes. They’re friends. But _friends_ doesn’t seem accurate enough to encompass the peace that she feels with him, or the warmth that flutters in her stomach and tingles over her skin when he smiles at her, breathes out a laugh, says her name. She’s certain _friends_ doesn’t encompass the giddiness that she feels whenever he walks into the room, or the way she can’t quite catch her breath until he’s come back from an assignment. Just friends don’t spend every night together in the same bed talking for hours, or maybe not at all, because neither can quite feel as calm as they do on their own than they do with each other.

She never stays the whole night, though.

He never says anything about it the next morning, and she doesn’t quite know how to bring it up, so they haven’t talked about it. She thinks they should. But the thought of it sort of terrifies her, how much she’s become attached to him.

Spending nights with him is dangerous when she feels as strongly as she does. But she can’t quite help it.

“ _Wanda_.”

His voice comes out low and gravelly, almost a rasp, and it startles her. She feels her eyes widen, her lips part, because there’s nothing fleeting or delicate about the way he’s looking at her. His eyes trace over her slowly, taking in her every curve, taking in every inch of bared skin. The crisp, winter air is finally starting to melt away into spring, and so she’s wearing the kitten pajama shorts and matching tank top that Pietro bought her, just because.

“James?” she asks, because he still isn’t saying anything, and she can’t quite catch her breath. Her cheeks feel flushed, and the air feels warm.

He blinks once, twice, three times, and then ducks his head and murmurs a harsh, “shit, _shit_ ,” under his breath as he sinks down onto the edge of his mattress. She gnaws on her lower lip and watches him, unsure of what to do. He’s never acted quite like this around her before. He’s never been _nervous_ around her, and even though she can’t quite tell why, it makes her stomach drop. She doesn’t want him to feel uncomfortable, especially with her.

“Should I go?” she asks, voice barely above a whisper.

His head snaps up, eyes wide. “No,” he rushes out, standing again and reaching for her, but then his eyes drop down her body again and he seems to reconsider. “Sorry.” He winces. “It’s just… you look…” He lets out a breathy laugh.

Oh. _Oh_.

She blushes a little harder.

“Should I… change?”

“I don’t know?” He’s smiling as he says it, so she’s fairly certain that he’s teasing right now. She glances away, and that seems to be the encouragement he needs, because he finally, _finally_ touches her, taking her hand in his. “Did I make you uncomfortable? I didn’t mean to, doll.” Her stomach flips at the endearment, the way it has ever since he first called her that. She shakes her head. “I just… I have never felt this way about anyone. I’m not sure what to do.”

“There were girls before,” she points out softly. She might be smiling.

“Yeah, but they were never like you.” He grasps her chin with his fingers, turns her head so that she’s looking at him again. “They were never as consuming.”

“Consuming?”

He breathes out another laugh. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” He brushes his thumb over her lower lip, the cool touch of the metal making a tingle slide down her spine. Her eyelashes flutter, lips parting. “I always wonder where you are, what you’re doing. What you’re _thinking_. What I can do to make you smile. What can I say to make you laugh.” Smiling, he adds, “So, yeah. I think that’s pretty consuming. You’re… you’re becoming my everything.”

Her heart stutters in her chest.

Lips quirking, he asks, “Was that too much?”

She can’t quite find her voice right now, so she just shakes her head. Perhaps a little too quickly if his chuckle is any indication, but she doesn’t care.

“Wanda, tonight…” He lifts his other hand and grasps her face with both of his hands. His smile is calm, serene. _Peaceful_. “I’d like it if you stayed.”

“I’d like that, too,” she whispers, and her hands are shaking as she reaches up to grasp his wrists, but he doesn’t point it out.

“Sorry it took so long to say something.” He grins. “You’re kind of terrifying.”

She _laughs_ , watching his grin widen as he tugs her toward the bed.


	13. Bucky/Wanda - #84

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **word count:** ~1,000  
>  **for:** an anon  
>  **prompt:** 84\. “I think you might be pregnant.”

“ _Fuck_ , doll.”

She giggles, rolls over and straddles his hips with her legs as she brushes her lips over the dip of his abs, the scars on his chest. She’s already starting to feel the dull ache in her muscles which she knows are going to be a bitch during her Saturday sparring session with Nat, but she can’t quite help it. It’s as if her every muscle is itching for him, hungry for his touch, his taste. She wants _more_.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he tells her, voice gravelly, words slightly slurred together in sated exhaustion. It makes her grin, which makes _him_ smirk. “Vixen,” he teases, his hand coming up to pinch her side and make her squeal.

She sits up properly, splays her fingers over his chest and drags her nails slowly down, scratching at the teeth mark she left just under his right rib. Oops.

“I wore you out, huh?”

He laughs, breathy and low and so incredibly _sexy_. She feels the vibrations of it against her skin, between her thighs, and she very nearly whimpers.

She’s not sure what’s wrong with her but everything about this man makes her body hum and her head spin. It always has, but recently it seems harder for her to focus on anything else. To _want_ anything else. She knows if she looks over her shoulder, she’d find their room in shambles: the blanket dislodged from the mattress from she’d been bent over the edge and clawing at it. Her jewelry scattered on the floor from when James swept them off of her vanity so he could hoist her on top of it. The glass shower door off of its hinges from when he’d thrown her against it. The frames knocked off of the dresser from when James had stumbled them into the room and then ended up on the floor halfway to the bed.

They _might_ have gotten a little carried away.

“Don’t look so smug,” he says, rubbing his thumbs in circles over her hips. “I’m still several decades older than you.”

She’s laughing as she shakes her head. “Well, old man,” she says as she pulls a hand off of him and places it on her stomach. His eyes follow, and she slides her fingertips lower. “If you need a break, I can always take care of myself.”

“ _No_ ,” he all but growls, rolling them over and pinning her beneath him with his weight in a wall of hot skin and hard muscles. He’s got one hand braced on the pillow by her head, holding himself up as he snatches her wrist with the other and yanks it away. He brings her palm up to his lips and kisses her there, then the platinum band of her wedding ring, which always, always makes her smile.

She doesn’t know how she falls a little more in love with him every day, but she does, and it’s the best feeling she’s ever had.

“You can tell me if this sounds like a jerk thing to say,” he says, his smile tugging at the corners so that it becomes crooked, almost boyish, his eyes twinkling. “But I feel like we’re too lucky. I keep waiting for it to run out.”

She feels herself frown. “What?”

He’s still smiling, eyes bright and amused, so she knows he’s not talking about something all that serious. It hardly ever happens anymore, but she knows that there are still days where he feels a little darker, a little broken. She thinks that that’s never going to go away entirely because of his past, but it’s okay. He has _her_ and he always will, and she knows how to pull him back.

“I mean,” he starts with a bit of a laugh, “you’re pretty crazy for me, that’s true.” She giggles. “But you only get _this_ crazy when you’re about to menstruate.”

She giggles again, because, well. He has a point.

“Which I have no complaints about, mind you,” he continues, and, as if to prove his point, he moves his hips between her legs. She makes this little noise. He grins. “But I keep expecting you to come pouting to me about it finally coming.”

He leans down, brushes a kiss to her lips, but she’s distracted, going back through the days in her head because his words are finally, truly registering with her. He pulls back, furrowing his eyebrows, but she stares past his face at a spot on the ceiling and counts back to her last period, and _…_

She feels like she’s just missing it, but she knows she’s not. The last few weeks have been a blur of missions and sex, long nights spend exertion from fighting or from being in a tangle of limbs and pleasure – and there hasn’t been a stop in that. Not even the handful of mornings two weeks ago where she woke up a little nauseous, but never quite _sick_. This makes her suck in a breath, and when she meets James’s gaze, he blinks, startled. She watches the emotion flash in his eyes – surprise, worry, a dash of anxiousness, and then a spark of understanding, a slow spread of realization. She sees the exact moment that he comes to the same conclusion as her.

He swallows, licks his lips.

“I think you might be pregnant,” he says, because one of them needs to say it.

A warmth unfurls in her stomach, her skin tingling, her breath hitching. She feels herself smile, and when she blinks, she sees a few dots of tears on her eyelashes. James smiles, too, eyes wild and awed as he grasps her chin with his fingers and brushes his metal thumb over her lower lip. The cool touch simultaneously makes her pulse race and makes her body ease, somehow.

“I think I might,” she agrees.

He leans down and kisses her again, soft and slow and sweet, and her hands are shaking when she cups them over the back of his neck, holding him close. “I love you,” he murmurs against her lips, and she feels a giggle burst out of her. Because their whole world might possibly have changed, but _that_ never will.


	14. Steve/Natasha - #5, 85

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **word count:** ~900  
>  **prompt:** 85\. “It’s 2 am but you’re craving cake and we’re both up anyway so let’s bake in our underwear.” + 5. “I don’t wanna get up–you’re comfy.”  
>  **for:** disneyprincessbuffyannesummers and swietek93

He’s awake, and he knows she can tell, but he still ignores the way she whispers, “Steve,” and gently scratches her nails over the back of his head.

Maybe he’s being a little selfish about it, but he’s not ready to let go of Natasha just yet, even if they should be moving to the bed rather than spending the rest of the night tangled on the couch. He thinks she’s pretty damn comfortable right now, though. She’s laying back on an abundance of throw pillows, and, halfway through the shitty Hallmark drama they’d put on last night, he had crawled over her and rested his head on her chest, wrapping his arms around her torso as her fingers idly played with his hair.

“ _Steve_.” She digs her nails in a little harder, and he cracks, chuckling against the flat of her stomach. She breathes out a laugh, too, trying to squirm out of his grasp, but he tightens his arm around her and presses a kiss to her skin.

“Stay.”

“I’m hungry, Steve.”

“It’s two in the morning,” he groans, skimming his lips up and nipping at the little bow between the cups of her bra. He glances up at her to find her lips curved in a sexy, sleepy sort of smile, and, _fuck._ It’s not that he could ever forget just how beautiful she is, but sometimes it still catches him off-guard. Especially now, in the glow of the TV lights, her hair in a rumpled, elegant sort of mess as it falls in curls over the pillows. She looks - relaxed. She looks totally at peace.

He loves that he’s the reason for that. He _loves_ that he makes her feel safe.

“Yes, it’s two in the morning,” she says in a drawl, smoothing her thumb along the line of his jaw, and her turns to kiss the inside of her palm. “And I’m _hungry_.”

He slides himself further up her body, kissing her skin as he goes, and, despite her insistence, he feels her body curl into his, her neck arching against his lips. “I don’t want to get up,” he mumbles into the curve of her throat, relishing in the way her nails dig into the muscles of his back. “You’re comfy.”

She _laughs_ \- open and airy and bright - and his heart actually skips in his chest at the sound. He grins as he lifts his head to meet her gaze. “If you don’t get off and let your pregnant wife have her cake, you’ll become _very_ familiar with this couch, Steve Rogers.”

He smirks, leaning in to kiss her on the lips, once, twice, three times. Then he peels himself off of her, standing up and offering his hands, and she lets him pull her up and onto her feet. She walks in front of him to the kitchen, and he knows the sway in her hips is deliberate, even if she’s purposefully not looking over her shoulder at him. His wife is such a fucking _tease_.

(And, no. Technically she’s not his wife just yet, because they’re waiting until after the baby is born, but still. She’s his everything, even before he put that ring on her finger, even before he’d come to realize he was in love with her. As excited as he is to be married to her, _officially_ , he doesn’t see why he has to wait to call her his wife when she’s his partner in every sense of the word and always has been.)

“I’m guessing you forgot,” he says, following her into the kitchen, “that you finished the other half of the cheesecake last night.”

Her hand pauses on the handle of the fridge, and she turns to him with a glare. To anyone else, the cut of her stare would no doubt have been intimidating. But to him, all it does is make a laughter burst from his chest. Which is probably not the best thing to do in the middle of the night when she’s having cravings, but, shit. It’s hardly the first time she’s made that face at him during her pregnancy and it’s sure as hell not going to be the last, no matter how hard he tries.

“Luckily, your husband comes prepared.”

He pulls open the pantry and takes out a box of store-bought cake mix, setting it down on the counter. She rubs her lips together, fighting back a smile.

“Do we have ice-cream?” she asks, stepping closer.

He lets his gaze slide down the curves of her body, his smile widening ever so slightly. He knows no one else can quite see the differences, and really, there’s not much to even _see_ yet. But he knows every inch of her like the back of his hand, so he notices the changes right away, no matter how small. Her stomach is growing firmer every day, the small bump starting to form, but she’s no less comfortable with her body than she’d been before and he _loves_ it. Honestly, the only reason she’d bothered putting anything back on last night was because she’d been a little cold.

“Yes,” he chuckles, finally dragging his eyes back up to hers. She looks amused, no doubt noticing where his stare had been.

“Mint chocolate chip?”

He smirks, reaching out and dragging her to him by her hips. “Of course.”

It’s _cute_ , the way her eyes sparkle at this. “You’ll bake it for me?”

“I’ll bake it _with_ you,” he corrects, and she’s laughing as he slants his lips over hers.


	15. Peter/Shuri - #7, 25, 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **word count:** ~800  
>  **prompt:** 7\. “I’m cold. Come closer.” + 25. “I’d like it if you stayed.” + 30. “Can I kiss you?”  
>  **for:** bookloverforeversworld and two anons

He feels fine. You know, healthy. _Normal_.

He thought maybe there would be more nightmares - and yeah, there were kind of a lot at first, and then maybe one or two here or there as the weeks went by and the world started to move on again. Mr. Stark said it was rough for him right after New York six years ago, the first time the world realized things like magic and aliens really did exist. Mr. Stark said it was because he thinks he _knew_ what was coming for them without really understanding it, but this time was different. This time felt final, and the calm that settled after they’d reversed the effects of the infinity stones? It felt _real_. Like the universe knew that they lived through hell and survived, and it was finally ready to let them enjoy the quiet.

It makes sense, sort of. Peter doesn’t want to get his hopes up - none of them do - but it’s as if there was a shift in the air and, for once, it was truly _calm._

Well, except for right now.

He can hear voices talking over each other in the other room, which isn’t all the uncommon when you get all of the Avengers together like this, and it sounds like they’re arguing or something. Which, again - not uncommon. Then the door to the lab slides open and his stomach does this stupid little flip when he sees Shuri walk in. He’d known that she was here, but still. It always takes him a little bit by surprise, just how pretty she is. Especially when she’s smiling like that.

“That’s quite a look on you,” she teases, and he laughs as he glances down at his bared chest. Dr. Banner had him take his shirt off, took a blood sample and then hooked him to a couple of monitors, and then left to get something from the other lab. These tests are just something they’ve done twice a week for the last couple of weeks to track his health. Since he, you know - technically _disappeared_ at one point. His body feels pretty much the same as before, but you can’t be too careful, and he gets it. He doesn’t mind.

“I feel like a science experiment,” he says, lifting the arm that has a heart monitor strapped to his bicep.

“Should I go get Banner?” She points a thumb behind her, but, despite her question, she takes a few steps closer. “He’s in the other room, caught up in yet another debate.”

“No, no,” he says, maybe a little too quickly, because she sort of just blinks at him, her lips tugging at the corners in a grin. “Sorry,” he breathes out with a laugh. “I mean, I’d like it if you stayed. I don’t mind waiting. Especially now that you’re here.” Her grin widens. “Did you just get here?”

“Just a few minutes ago.” Her gaze scans over the lab as she walks over to where he’s perched on a medical table, and he tries not to smile like an idiot at the thought that he was the first person she wanted to see. “This place is…” She glances at him, her eyes sparkling. “Cute.”

He laughs. “Well, we can’t all live in a scientific castle, can we?”

“Shame.” She reaches up, touches her fingers to a scar on his shoulder that he doesn’t even remember getting, and he sees something flicker behind her eyes that’s too quick for him to really place. It makes him feel _warm_ , though. It’s nice. “How are you feeling?” she asks, and she picks up the tablet Dr. Banner left by his table, swiping through the medical displays.

He’s distracted by the fact that she’s like, a foot away from him, and standing between his knees, that he almost forgets she asked him something.

“Fine. I mean, I feel normal and stuff.” Then, with a grin, he adds, “Just cold.”

“Cold?”

Her eyes twinkling as she meets his gaze, though, like she knows where he’s going with this, so he feels a little less lame when he says, “Yeah. I haven’t had a shirt on for a while now.” She laughs as she sets the tablet down again. “I’m cold, so maybe you should help a friend out and come closer.”

She’s grinning as she shakes her head, and he sort of holds his breath when she steps closer, winding her arms around his torso and clasping her fingers together over the small of his back. “Is that what we are, Peter Parker?” She tilts her head, her smile softening just a little bit. “Friends?”

“Maybe more?” He reaches up and touching her cheek. She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes brighten. His heart skips. “Can I… Can I kiss you?”

“You’re asking first?” She doesn’t sound like she’s making fun of him, though.

“Well, you _are_ a princess and all, so I figured–”

They’re both laughing when she cuts him off with a kiss, and it’s kind of the best feeling ever.


	16. Steve/Natasha - #3, 7, 12, 26, 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **word count:** ~1000  
>  **prompt:** 3\. “I’m here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses.” + 7. “I’m cold. Come closer.” + 12. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” + 26. “People are jerks, but not you.” + 28. “I have never felt this way about anyone.” + a little bit inspired by [this photo](https://78.media.tumblr.com/b35ba1971817cdec11457ea6c9d47d93/tumblr_ohonmqM0wO1ucf6tho1_500.jpg)   
> **for:** four anons

He must be more exhausted than he’s letting on, because he flinches ever so slightly in surprise when she lightly raps her knuckles on the glass walls of his office. If he’d been paying attention, he would’ve heard the click of her heels echoing down the hallway, would’ve notice her standing in the doorway, taking a moment to watch him flip between the holographic monitors projecting from his desk.

“ _Nat_.” His entire expression eases as he watches her walk into his office and over to his desk, trailing her fingers along the sleek, smooth surface as she walks around it. His gaze slides over her, sweeping up and down the little black dress that she’d worn to the press conference. It’s new and something that he hasn’t seen on her yet - simple and sleek, cinching at her curves - and, judging by the quirk of his lips, it’s obvious that he likes it.

“Hey, soldier.”

“I thought you’d go home right away,” he admits, holding his hand out, and she slips her fingers into his, a warmth fluttering in her stomach as he gives them a gentle little squeeze. It’s just something he does sometimes, absently, and she doesn’t know why she likes it so much. “You didn’t have to wait for me.”

She breathes out a laugh before she can quite help it. It’s just such a _Steve_ thing for him to say, despite the fact that he’s already drawing her closer, as if he’d felt as restless as she had all day. He left for his morning run before she woke up and then hadn’t come back before she had to leave to meet with Maria. It was easy to distract herself with the politicians and the press trying to pry her for answers, waiting for her to make the wrong move - but every time her mind had been able to wander, all she could focus on his how much she wanted to see him, to be with him. If she’d fallen asleep before he got home tonight, this would’ve been the first day in months where she hadn’t seen him.

It’s ridiculous that this bothers her at all, but she doesn’t care.

“Well, I’m here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses,” she says with a quirk of her eyebrow, and he grins like he knows that, as much as she’s teasing him right now, she’s really _not._ “Since you decided not to give me either this morning.”

He chuckles softly as he pulls her close, and she slides herself onto his lap and straddles his hips, humming softly as she presses a kiss to his jaw. His hands slide over her hips and up her sides, and she feels his lips tug in a smirk when his palms meet the skin of her back. “You wore a backless dress to the press conference?” he asks, and she tries to suppress a shiver when his calloused fingers smooth over her skin. _Fuck_ , that feels nice.

“I wore a jacket.” She kisses the corner of his mouth. “I wanted you to see it.”

His chest rumbles with a breathy laugh, and she pulls back to grin at him. “It’s definitely worth seeing, but I just wanted to see _you_ most,” he says, cupping a hand over the back of her neck. “I was worried you might’ve had a tough day.”

She exhales, winds her arms around his neck. “Well, evidently saving the world a few times isn’t incentive for government officials to cut the Avengers a little slack.” He hums, rubs circles in her neck with the pad of his thumb, and she lets out this little noise as she leans into his touch. It’s ridiculous how nice that feels.

“People are jerks,” he says simply, his tone nonchalant, and a short, sharp laugh bursts from her lips. He grins. “But not you.”

“Quite the inspirational speech, Cap.”

He chuckles, shakes his head. “Not my best work, I know,” he teases, “but I can’t quite think straight when I’m this cold.” His lips curve a little wider. “I think that means you should come closer, cuddle with me until I’m warm.”

She’s laughing as she shakes her head. “Did that work on all the ladies back in the forties?”

“You’re the only one I’ve tried that line on, so…” He shrugs his shoulders, and honestly, he’s being incredibly _cheesy_ and she should at least pretend that it’s awful, but it’s kind of exactly what she needs after her hellish day. She winds her arms a little tighter around his neck, drawing herself even closer, until their chests are pressed together. The amusement in his eyes fades as she holds his gaze, easing into something softer and sweeter. “I missed you today.”

“I did, too.” Her voice is barely above a whisper as she presses her face into his neck. There’d been a dull ache in her bones by the time she and Tony got back to the Facility, out of pure _exhaustion_ of having to think so much, of having to argue and argue in circles. But as soon as Steve had touched her - as soon as he had _looked_ at her - it started to ebb. And just sitting in his lap, curled around him as she listens to his steady breaths, is kind of the best she’s felt all day.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he tells her, pushing her hair off of one shoulder and kissing her skin there. “I really wanted to wake you this morning.”

“I wouldn’t have minded.” Pausing, she amends, “Well, _after_ , I wouldn’t have minded.” He chuckles as she lifts her head to look at him. “It’s so stupid that I missed you as much as I did,” she tells him with this little laugh, and he grins like he knows exactly what she’s thinking. He probably does. “We used to spend _months_ apart, and I miss you because I didn’t get to see you this morning?” She scoffs, shakes her head. “I hope you know I’ve never felt this way about anyone, so if I’m ruined, it’s your fault.”

His eyes are twinkling. “I think you’ve ruined me, too, Romanoff.”

“ _Good_ ,” she says, and he grins, drawing her lips to his and finally, _finally_ , kissing her.


	17. Bucky/Wanda - #6, 19, 21, 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **word count:** ~1000  
>  **prompt:** 6\. “I will always be there protect you.” + 19. “I don’t think anyone could ever be as lovely as you.” + 21. “He/She’s quite stunning, isn’t he/she?” + 24. “I think I’m in love.” + inspired by [this photo](https://78.media.tumblr.com/39d9d4b8224fe15348b15711dc8d01dc/tumblr_o13zasTT7N1ufiocpo1_500.png)   
> **for:** purple-aeon and two anons

He feels her before he sees her, which… he never really understood what that meant when people would say that. When _Steve_ would say that about Nat. But. Now he does. There really isn’t a better way to describe the way the air seems to shift a little bit, the way his muscles twitch, as if some kind of force is pulling at him, urging him to look away from Steve and Sam, who continue chattering despite his apparent distraction. Bucky squints against the sunlight as his gaze sweeps down the shoreline - and then a warmth slides through his veins as soon as he sees her.

It’s kind of ridiculous, how _happy_ he always is to see her.

She looks gorgeous, too. She always does, but especially now, with the sunlight catching in her light hair. She’d had it dyed; something done on an impulse, in a burst of energy at coming home, at their lives starting to fall back into place. She’d been bouncing on the balls of her feet when she came into his room the day Natasha had taken her to get it done, her eyes bright when she asked him what he thought of it.

“She’s quite stunning, isn’t she?”

Bucky doesn’t even take his eyes off of Wanda as he hums in response to Steve. There’s a breeze passing through, sort of sending her hair all over the place, and she and Natasha are laughing about something as Wanda pushes a few strands from her face. They’d come to the beach to swim, but she had yet to take off the woven dress she’d worn over her bathing suit. Not that she looks any less stunning, but, he’s looking forward to getting her in the water. Her energy is infectious, and she has a knack for bringing out the parts of him that remember the carefree guy he’d been a lifetime ago. He loves that she can do that.

He loves _her_.

“Buck,” Steve says, and his voice is just a little bit softer. He glances over his shoulder to find the guy giving him this incredibly _knowing_ sort of look, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips, and even Sam seems to be fighting off a grin as he takes a swig from his beer bottle. Steve raises his eyebrows. “ _Buck_.”

“I know.” He breathes out a laugh, pushing a hand through his hair. Wanda had cut it for him, but it’s starting to grow out again. He doesn’t mind it, though. Not when it feels so good when she combs it with her fingers, gently twisting it in her grasp.

“I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I’ve never _felt_ like this.” He feels himself smile. “I think I’m in love.”

“Was wondering when you’d figure it out,” Sam chimes in, shrugging a shoulder when Bucky and Steve look at him. He points the neck of his bottle at Bucky, his lips quirking at the corners. “You’ve barely taken your eyes off of her since we got here. I was this close to smacking it into your head,” Sam tells him, holding his thumb and index finger close together, “but, you know. We’re not friends.”

Steve laughs. Bucky chuckles, shaking his head.

“I’d think that’s a pretty good excuse _to_ smack him,” Steve points out.

Bucky chuckles again, but again, he feels his attention being pulled away before he can call his best friend a punk, looking over his shoulder again as Wanda and Natasha walk over to where they’re spread out on a few beach towels. Wanda is looking right at him, smiling, the sun sort of poking out from behind her and making her glow even more, if possible.

“Who’s smacking who?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.

“Sam’s smacking Bucky,” Steve answers.

Natasha’s laughing as she lowers herself into his lap, drapes her arms around his neck as she says, “Well, we can’t risk our newfound peace by having everyone get along, now can we?” Steve chuckles, pushes her hair from her face and then kisses her.

Bucky looks away from them as Wanda kneels beside him, still sort of fussing with her hair. “I must look a mess,” she laughs, and he knows her well enough to know that she’s not actually self-conscious about this.

Still, he reaches for her, combs his hands over her hair and gathers it over her back, letting the wind push it to one side as it passes. “You’re still the loveliest person on this beach,” he tells her, and she blinks her ridiculously long lashes at him. “In fact, I don’t think anyone could ever be as lovely as you.”

She gnaws on her lower lip a little, then releases it in a breathy, “Really?”

He laughs a little. She knows he means it - she can _feel_ it - but it’s cute that she still asks. “Yeah, really.”

“ _Cute_ ,” Natasha chimes, and Wanda lets out this little giggle as she looks over her shoulder at the girl. Bucky can’t even really be bothered by the fact that he knows Nat, Steve, and Sam are probably never going to let that go. He’s quickly realizing that, with Wanda? He’s not really bothered by _anything._ “Maybe the loveliest person on the beach should finally take a dip with me,” Nat says, one eyebrow quirked as if in a challenge.

Wanda wrinkles her nose. “You just want to dunk me under the current.”

Sam laughs, and Steve says, “Nat,” in this tone that’s somehow amused and admonishing all at once.

Natasha rolls her eyes, peeling herself off of Steve and onto her feet. She pulls her cover-up over her head and tosses it at him, but he catches it before it can hit him in the face, laughing as he dumps it onto the towels and stands up, too. And, since the others are already in the water, knee-deep and sort of just messing around, Sam drains his beer and gets up to follow.

Bucky looks at Wanda again, grinning when he sees that she’s still making a face at Nat. “You’ll be there to keep her away from me, right?” she asks, and she sounds genuinely wary, except he knows better. Those two could never _actually_ be upset with each other.

“I will always be there to protect you,” he promises, and she looks at him, her smile softening like she knows he’s not just playing along.

(Later, he’ll tell her he loves her in his head, and she’ll give him this very same smile, like she hears it, anyway.)


	18. Steve/Natasha - #4, 69, 90, 98, 100

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **word count:** ~1300  
>  **prompt:** 4\. “Is it possible to love too much?” + 69. “You had a business trip and I missed you so much that I kind of tore up the house in your absence like a dog with separation anxiety… sorry?” + 90. “Our kid is totally the one who wanted to build a pillow fort, not me.”+ 98. “I think we should have another.” + 100. “Okay fine, one more story, but then you really have to go to bed.”   
> **for:** sleepygrimm and an anon

She only really gets to be pissed about _disaster_ that the house is in for a few seconds, because as soon as she steps toward the hallway, she can hear the high lilt of James’s giggles coming from the nursery, followed by Steve’s deep, breathy laughs. Maybe it’s stupid, but her chest sort of squeezes at the sound of them. _Fuck_ , she’s missed her boys. She wasn’t supposed to be gone for so long, and yeah, it was only a week, but it’s the longest she’s been away from James since he was born and she hadn’t anticipated it to be so damn _hard_.

She steps quietly toward the nursery, feeling her smile widen as James lets out another peel of laughter. The door is wide open - no doubt for Steve’s sake, so he can listen for her - and she rubs her lips together to stifle her laugh.

He built a fort.

_Of course._

He’d draped a sheet over two chairs from the dining room and spread out one of the throws over the floor, and it’s kind of ridiculously _cute_ to see James and Steve curled together in the small space with James, surrounded by stuffed animals and about a dozen Baby Einstein books. James looks like he’s about two seconds from passing out, and honestly, it’s taking every ounce of self-control that she has to not just pick him up and smother the hell of him right now. Because she knows that as soon as he sees her, he’s not going to want to sleep right away, even though he’ll be a grumpy little thing if he tries to stay awake for much longer.

But then Steve says, “Look who’s home, buddy,” and pulls the book away from in front of James’s face, catching her gaze and giving her this _smile_ that makes her melt a little bit. Of course he’d known that she was standing there, and she decides that she doesn’t care if James sees her. She’s been away from him for a _week_. It’s fine if he sleeps in a little late, and it’s not like the three of them have anywhere to be tomorrow. ( _Finally_.)

James is lying on his back and staring up at Steve, so he doesn’t see her right away, but then she’s stepping into the room and kneeling over him, and his _entire face_ brightens as soon as he looks at her. “ _Mama_ ,” he calls out, reaching for her, and this warmth flutters in her stomach, squeezing at her chest and - _fuck_ \- making her eyes dot with a few tears when she blinks quickly.

“Hi, kiddo,” she breathes, letting him roll to her before pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his cheek. He giggles, curling his fingers around her hair and giving it a gentle tug, and she laughs softly as she stares into his big, bright eyes. He’s not even a year old and he already looks so much like Steve, and she loves it. Of course she does.

But those eyes?

They’re all _hers_ , and sometimes it’s still crazy for her to see them sparkling up at her, still crazy for her to see them on his sweet, smiling face.

James giggles, pulls on her hair again and puts a few strands of it in his mouth - of course - and she glances up at Steve, feeling her lips quirk. There’s a smile on his face, his lips quirked in amusement as James plays with her hair, but his gaze is heavy, almost a palpable touch on her skin as they drop to her lips for a fleeting second. He looks every bit as relieved for her to be home as she feels. She wonders if he’d slowly become a bit of wreck the longer she was gone, just as she felt while she was away.

“I bet you missed having his drool sticking to your hair,” he teases, sliding a hand over her hip as he slides himself closer, pressing James between them.

“You bet I did.” Arching an eyebrow, she adds, “I also missed how nice and clean the house was when I left.”

He chuckles, gives her a squeeze, and she knows he’s being sincere when he says, “I’m sorry about that.” She rubs her lips together a little as she nods. James squirms, kicks his little foot against her stomach, but when she looks down at him, he tucks his face into her chest and lets out a tiny yawn. She lifts a hand, runs her fingers through his soft hair. “Nat?” he says, his voice soft. She catches his gaze, furrowing her eyebrows when she sees a flash of something in his eyes. “Do you… do you think it’s possible to love too much?”

She blinks. She hadn’t been expecting that.

“What do you mean?” She reaches for him, cups his cheek with her hand and strokes the pad of her thumb over his skin. He catches her wrist, turns his head to press his lips to her palm, kissing her once, twice. “Steve, what is it?”

“I just…” He breathes out a bit of a laugh, shaking his head, like even _he_ can’t believe what he’s going to say. “I don’t know how any of this would work if you weren’t here. I don’t know how _I_ would work if you weren’t here.” He flexes his fingers at her hips, his thumb finding the sliver of skin between the waistband of her jeans and the hem of her shirt. “I think I went a little crazy with you gone.”

“I know,” she echoes, her voice barely above a whisper. “I did, too.”

“We should be ashamed.” His lips quirk. “We’ve become codependent.”

She breathes out a laugh, shaking her head. “That’s what we get for having this one over here,” she teases, pulling her hand from his cheek to run her fingers gently over James’s hair. He’s stubbornly trying to keep his eyes open even though he’s probably two seconds from falling asleep. “The funny thing is,” she whispers, glancing back up at Steve. “I think we should have another.”

They’ve never talked about this in any capacity before - hell, they’d barely even talked about having _James_ , but then she’d gotten pregnant and then there was never a need to - but that’s no because they’ve been avoiding it. Steve _knows_ her, sometimes better than she knows herself. He knows that she wouldn’t say things that she hasn’t thought through, and honestly? He could probably knew that this conversation was one that they were going to have sooner than later.

His eyes are sparkling as he smiles at her. “I think so, too.”

“There’s no going back.” It’s a stupid thing to say considering they already have James, and it’s not like there was ever the choice for either of them to back out of this. It was always going to be _them,_ no matter what that meant.

“I know, and I don’t want to.” His smile widens. “I could do this all day.” Drawing her closer, pressing James between their chests, he leans forward and brushes his lips to hers, kissing her soft and slow and sweet. Then he pulls away, kisses the bridge of her noise before adding, “In fact, I think we should tell James how much fun it’ll be to be a big brother.”

“Steve,” she says with a chuckle. “Just let him sleep.”

“We need to get him on board, though.” Steve bends his head down and kisses the back of James’s head, and, yeah, he’s about two seconds from passing out despite the fact that they’re chatting two inches away. She doesn’t _actually_ mind staying curled on the floor like this with her boys. “I could tell him about me and Buck.”

“We’re trying to set a _good_ example, Steve.”

He breathes out a laugh. “I promise I’ll skip over the playground fights.”

“Okay, fine.” She feigns a sigh. “One more story, but then we really have to go to bed.” Raising her eyebrows, she adds, “Well, _you_ have to clean up your mess first, but I promise I won’t fall asleep without you.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he says, and she’s smiling as she closes her eyes.

 _Fuck_ , she loves being home.


	19. Steve/Natasha - #61, 72, 84, 95, 98

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **word count:** ~1600  
>  **prompt:** 61\. “I wanted to surprise you for our anniversary, but everything that could go wrong, did go wrong.” + 72. “Do you think it’s possible that I…might be… pregnant?” + 84. “I think you might be pregnant.” + 95. “Mm…your kid before five in the morning.” + 98. “I think we should have another.” + a little bit inspired by [this gifset](http://evanzski.tumblr.com/post/155868490904/steve-natasha-au-series-natasha-finds-out)   
> **for:** sleepygrimm, elcapitan-rogers, gomustanggirl16, and an anon

“I’m really sorry, Nat.”

She can practically see that face he makes when he’s upset - the way his eyebrows pinch together, the way his lip curls ever so slightly in a pout - and it makes her want to laugh and maybe sort of cry at the same time. It’s _ridiculous_ that she’s even bothered by something like this. It’s hardly the first time that one of them has been late coming home, and at least she knows he’s just in the city with Tony and Nick and not off the grid somewhere on a different continent. She knows with certainty that he’ll be home, and whether that’s in half an hour or not until the next morning is not really important after that.

But, still. Maybe it’s the cranky mood that James has been in all day, but she feels weirdly unsettled.

Wanda basically _pouted_ until they agreed to let her watch James so they could have tonight to themselves. No, it’s not the first time they’ve been away from their baby, but it’s not as if they make a habit of it. She _likes_ being home, and honestly, she couldn’t care less about the dinner reservation they had to cancel tonight or the hotel suite they’d already paid for. She just wants Steve.

“Don’t even start with that,” she says, trying to make her voice sound light and teasing, except James is still sort of whimpering unhappily and that tugs at her chest a lot harder than when when he’s just crying. “I know it’s not your fault.”

“I know, but…” James cuts him off, his crying hitching up an octave, and Natasha glances over her shoulder at where Wanda is pacing around the coffee table, murmuring to James as she gently bounces him in her arms. “ _Fuck_ ,” Steve exhales. “He’s still in a mood?”

“Yeah,” she admits. He’d been fussy even before Steve left, and she kind of thinks it’s because he’d somehow known that his dad wouldn’t be home on time.

“He doesn’t want to sleep?”

“No, and he’s not hungry, and I just changed him.” She rubs her fingertips over the middle of her forehead. “He just misses you.”

“ _Nat_ ,” Steve says. He knows she’s not trying to guilt him; he’s just as upset with the situation as she is. “I miss you both, too. And I promise I’ll be home soon.”

She knows, realistically, that’s not something he can guarantee. But it still makes her smile, knowing that he’s stubborn as hell and that he’ll find a way to get back to her. It’s not that he’s a pushover, but he likes to be accommodating to everyone and it’s one of the things she loves most about him. He knows that what needs to get done tonight is important, and he’s okay with having to change their plans, knowing that she’ll be okay with it, too. These are just the kind of adjustments they need to make for their line of work and it’s fine.

But he puts his foot down when it comes to her and James, and she loves that about him even more.

“I’m counting on that, Rogers.” She hears him chuckle. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he echoes, and it’s kind of stupid that that’s all he needs to say to make her smile.

She hangs up and sets her phone down, but, just as she’s turning to walk into the living room, she feels something tug at her stomach. She rubs her lips together, waiting for it to pass - she’s felt a little off the last few days, but only sometimes, and it’s never been uncomfortable enough for her to be all that worried - but after a moment, she feels it again, rumbling low in her stomach.

Wanda happens to catch her gaze, and Natasha must look as uneasy as she feels, because the girl pauses in her stride, her expression pulling together in worry. She’s about to tell her that she’s fine, that it’s nothing, but she doesn’t end up getting the words out. As soon as she parts her lips, she feels that tug to her stomach again, and then she’s rushing down the hallway and into the guest bathroom.

She sort of grips the counter afterward, as she’s rinsing the acid taste from her mouth, and it’s sort of ridiculous that she feels _fine_ barely twenty seconds after throwing up in the toilet. She splashes water on her face, then pats her skin dry before heading back outside. She can’t hear James’s cries anymore, and when she walks into the living room, she finds him drifting quickly to sleep in Wanda’s arms. She knows her baby well enough that he’s not really asleep yet, because he’s never, ever out that easily, but at least he’s finally settled down.

“Everything alright?” Wanda asks, and there’s something different in her expression now that makes Natasha pause. Something _knowing_.

“I feel fine.” Walking up to her, she pushes the hair from Wanda’s face, tucks it behind her ear. “Although, it seems like you feel differently about the matter.”

Wanda gets this little grin, trying not to jostle James as she cutely shrugs her shoulders. “I just - have this intuition,” she admits, and Natasha doesn’t mean to laugh, but, well. Usually when the girl says something like that, it’s more than just _an intuition_. “Do you remember what I said to you after you and Steve told us that you were pregnant?” she asks, and Natasha wasn’t entirely sure what she had been expecting, but it definitely hadn’t been _that_.

“You thought I’d felt - off.”

Wanda nods. “You felt unsettled,” she adds.

Natasha blinks, her lips parting. Wanda gnaws on her lower lip, no doubt trying to gauge Natasha’s reaction before letting her own show.

 _Unsettled_.

Fuck.

“Do you think–” She licks her lips “–it’s possible that I…”

She doesn’t know why she can’t even bring herself to say the words, but it sort of feels like _everything_ is clicking and she’s a little bit overwhelmed.

“That you might totally be pregnant?” Wanda finishes. She lifts her hand, red wisps of light curling out from her fingertips. Natasha follows their path to see them dip into Wanda’s purse still sitting on the breakfast bar, and she’s not at all surprised when she sees a slim box being lifted into the air. She can’t see what’s printed onto it from this distance, but she doesn’t have to; so she just turns to look at Wanda again, raising her eyebrows. Her eyes are sparkling. “Yeah, I’d had a feeling.”

Natasha doesn’t really know why she laughs, but, _shit_. She hadn’t even realized that she even _could_ have a kid - let alone that she wanted one - before they’d found out about James. And now, barely days after she and Steve decided that they wanted to have another, she realizes that she may already be pregnant?

Her heart does this stupid little flutter, and she hasn’t even taken the test yet.

“Come on,” Wanda says after a moment, and Natasha holds her palm out for Wanda to drop the box in her hand, grinning. “Let’s get your little one to bed and then we’ll find out if you have another little one on the way.”

-

She’s not sure what time it is, but she knows that she hadn’t been asleep for long when she hears the front door being unlocked.

Wanda had insisted on staying over - and she knows it probably has less to do with being too tired to drive home and more to do with the fact that Barnes is in Berlin - and so the girl is curled on the other end of the couch with her, tucked under the duvet that Tony and Pepper gave them for Christmas. Steve steps in quietly, and Natasha feels herself smile as she watches his silhouette pause in the dark, no doubt taking in the sight of her and Wanda and the half-dozen blankets they’d drawn between them.

“Welcome home,” she whispers, and Steve chuckles softly, setting his papers down on the coffee table as he walks over to her.

 _Fuck_ , it’s ridiculous how relieved she is to see him right now.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I know, I know I apologized already, but still.” He kneels in front of her, and she actually lets out this little whimper from the back of her throat as his lips slant over hers. It was probably meant to be brief, but she grasps onto the collars of his shirts, twists them with her fingers to keep him in place when he tries to pull away.

Eventually, though, he eases his lips off of hers, and she smiles as she catches his gaze.

“I hope tonight hasn’t set a precedent for the rest of our anniversaries,” he says, and she really, really can’t help the soft laugh that bursts from her lips.

But, before she can even take a breath to tell him, a soft cry comes from the hallway, making them they both pause. Steve lips quirk in a smile as they wait - James babbles in his sleep and it always, always wakes them through his baby monitor, but recently, he hasn’t woken himself up because of it - but then he cries out again, a little louder this time, and Steve breathes out a bit of a laugh.

“ _Mm_.” She hums, loosening her grip on his collar but not entirely letting go just yet. “Your kid before five in the morning,” she says, even though she knows that Steve wouldn’t have asked her to get James. He’s been sleeping through the night for a while now, but she doesn’t doubt that Steve had probably hoped James might wake up because he hasn’t seen him all day.

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckles, kissing her again before drawing away, except she still hasn’t let go of him, so he doesn’t get very far. “Nat?”

She gnaws on her lower lip a little. “Just… don’t be too long, okay?” His forehead creases in question, and she knows she’s smiling way too widely right now, but she doesn’t care. “I have something to tell you.”


End file.
